


Beneath Words, Truth

by foundCarcosa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your garden-variety Russia/Prussia angst. [Past Work]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath Words, Truth

“You,” Ivan had spoken that overcast afternoon, his voice thick and heavy and jagged around the edges, and his gemstone eyes hadn’t glittered the way Gilbert had expected them to. “You come with me.”

And Gilbert’s eyes had darted back desperately towards Ludwig,  _lieber Bruder, bitte_ , but Ludwig had been blank-faced and stoic. Unblinking. Statuesque. He wasn’t truly there.

And Gilbert had stared blankly around at his quarters in Ivan’s then-sprawling home, at the thick handmade quilt on the sleigh bed, at the rug on the hard-wood floor, at the snow piling up on the window pane. The frightening world power and his cosy home.

And Ivan had laboured over the wood-burning stove, and had stoked the fireplace all night, and had shadowed Gilbert anxiously whenever he left the too-warm house to walk in the knee-deep snow.  
And Gilbert stood at the window, watching the hulking Russian raise his hands as if pleading to the wind and snow itself. When his eyes unfocused, Gilbert thought he saw the vague outline of Ivan’s tormentor and friend.  
He was helplessly cold for the rest of the evening.

And still Gilbert fought the Russian with every bit of him, red eyes flashing, white teeth bared, his words lashing the air every time he thought he could wound Ivan.  _Mein Bruder will come for me. Mein Bruder will not let you get away with this. Mein Bruder loves me. You do not even understand the word._

And Ivan’s gaze fixed upon him, unblinkingly, and though Gilbert’s gut clenched at the depth within those unnatural eyes, he stood fast.  
 _You are nothing to me._

And Ivan remained nothing to him, if only in words.  
And Ivan continued to bring cool compresses for Gilbert’s brow when he suffered his fever dreams. And Ivan continued to soldier his way through the cookbook of German recipes that he’d stolen from Ludwig’s shelf. And Ivan continued to plead with Winter year after year to keep the entity from stripping the skin from the Prussian’s visible bones. And every once in a while, Ivan would be driven to knock Gilbert senseless, only to cradle the fragile nation in his arms until he awoke again with fire in his eyes and fingers gnarled into claws.

“I hate you!” Gilbert screamed one particularly stormy night, launching his gaunt frame at Ivan. The element of surprise toppled the Russian; his backside slammed into the floorboards, knocking the wind from his lungs. Gilbert’s hands went for the scarf. The fabric constricted around Ivan’s throat, and Gilbert smiled grimly as he watched real fear bleed into the Russian’s gaze.

“You make me ill! You have built a fallacy! You made us fear you, but you are nothing! _Nothing!_  Ogre, bumbling idiot,  _let me go!_ ”

And Ivan’s fear of suffocation raged to the surface, bringing tears to his eyes and helpless weakness to his muscles. Gilbert pulled tighter, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his blazing eyes.

“So it is not war that will kill me… but love? I do not underst—”

An enraged cry cut off the gasped words. Scarf still clenched in his fists, he beat viciously against the Russian’s chest. “ _Do not use that word!_  Do not lie to me, sick Red demon!”

“I am… not a liar…”

Gilbert gritted his teeth and growled in frustration, but he was not stupid, nor was he unobservant. And just as Ivan was not a liar, Gilbert was not heartless. But he  _was_ bad with his words:

“I hate you… I hate you,  _I hate you,_  I hate you…”

The tears spilled down Ivan’s cheeks as sweet air rushed back into his lungs.  
He sat upright, careful not to touch the Prussian yet lest he enrage him again.  
When Gilbert shut his eyes tight, so as not to acknowledge what he was doing, to what he was submitting… that was when Ivan pulled Gilbert’s head to rest against his sluggishly beating heart and pressed his lips to the smaller nation’s temple.  
And just as Gilbert was bad with his words, Ivan always understood them nevertheless.

“And may you hate me always.”


End file.
